


Love is about being best friends

by buttheyrebrothers



Series: What is love? [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining!Sam, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttheyrebrothers/pseuds/buttheyrebrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been four months since Sam left the hunting life, and with it his family, behind him. Loneliness has sunken it's maddening claws into him and all he wants is his best friend, but he thinks he has lost Dean forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is about being best friends

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt, this time for my wonderful Myri (baronsamediswife on tumblr, go say hello), who said “Love to me is being utterly comfortable with each other. Just being happy to quietly exist in each other's space one moment and then laughing and spazzing out together in the next.” 
> 
> I'm 100% with you on this. Good thing our codependent soulmates are also each others best friends.

Sam had never realized how _loud_ people could be. Sure, there had been situations before where he just couldn’t avoid being surrounded by noise, but that had been nothing like this constant buzzing around him. He was in line at the one Starbucks that was directly located on campus, and he knew that this was a bad idea when you weren’t used to so many people being in one place, but he had pulled another all-nighter and was in dire need of coffee. _Now_.

Just when he had reached the counter, ready to tell the tired looking girl his order, someone bumped into him spilling hot coffee all over his shoes, and instead of apologizing the guy just muttered “Watch it, giant.” before shuffling out of the coffee house.

“What an asshole.” he said to no one in particular, like most things that left his mouth these days; given that he hadn’t managed to really connect with anyone since he had arrived at Stanford four months ago. Hell, there were days he never even said a single word if not to give an answer in class.

The barista just looked at him still waiting for his order, and behind him the line was getting longer and more impatient, so Sam hurried to tell her “A tall Americano, please.” As soon as the words had left his mouth he chuckled silently to himself, his inner Dean (because apparently he couldn’t have a normal inner voice like anyone else but a tiny, imaginary version of his brother’s voice instead) gleefully pointing out _You wouldn’t need to order that, Sasquatch, just look in a mirror_.

Ignoring the strange looks he was getting - because his chuckling wasn’t as silent as he thought, and people laughing without apparent reason was still regarded as strange - he walked over to the counter where the finished orders were placed and picked up his coffee, relieved to leave this place behind.

He aimlessly walked around campus for a while. Being here at Stanford sometimes still felt surreal to him. It was not easy to reconcile this bright place bustling with activity, people milling around talking and laughing or just hurrying to their next class, with the life he was used to. Sitting in a classic car with his brother and his father (although lately it had been only Dean and him more often than not), driving across the country to hunt things these people here had no idea even existed. So yeah, it was no wonder Sam had some problems adjusting.

Sure, he would have thought that four months were enough time to at least make some acquaintances that held the potential of becoming his friends, but so far the only potential people had around him was to annoy him. They were always there, in his space, constantly talking or making some kind of noise, and it was slowly driving him nuts. This made the fact that he felt lonely and downright miserable because of it for the first time in his life even more puzzling. He had been alone plenty before, so what was his problem?

If he was honest with himself – something he prided himself with being before, but now mostly avoided – he knew what his problem was. _Dean_.

Or rather Dean being not here with him, not even over the phone. Before Stanford, Dean was the only constant in his life and the one thing he could count on, no matter what. He felt like he hadn’t appreciated this simple fact as much as he should have, because how did the saying go? _You don't know what you've got until it's gone._

Back then, his brother had been in his space all the time, too, but what now was maddening had once been comforting and reassuring. He knew the thing most people noticed about Dean – other than how stunningly _beautiful_ he was – was the fact that his mouth was constantly working, him mouthing off, talking incessantly, making stupid crass jokes or at least chewing obnoxiously. He had the feeling he was the only one who knew another side of Dean. A side that only ever came out when it was just them and his brother’s guard was lowered.

In times like these Dean let himself be, the two of them sitting side by side, comfortable with the silence between them. There was no need to say anything, because the other already knew. Those were the moments Sam could have sworn it was impossible to tell where he ended and Dean began, the lines between them blurring. Those were also the moments he thought everything was possible, that maybe, just _maybe_ , he was not alone with this feeling of completeness he only ever had around Dean.

And even better than the peaceful silence they could happily share were the moments when one of them just had to break it, making the other crack up with some stupid jokes or mock-offensive remarks. They always ended on the ground, tickling each other or sparring until one called uncle, their bellies hurting with laughter, their faces aching because they just couldn’t stop smiling.

Unfortunately, those times were unfailingly followed by Dean picking up whatever willing girl he could find, disappearing for several hours before he came back to their room, reeking of alcohol and sex. Sam couldn’t understand how it was possible that one minute things were so simple between them, when the next Dean had to go and ruin it, leaving a bitter taste in Sam’s mouth that would stay for days sometimes.

He would never say that this was the reason he chose to go to Stanford, because college was something he had wanted for a long time - maybe not as long as Dean, but for once totally separate from his brother and his own longing for him. So no, Stanford was not his escape from his not so brotherly feelings, but they did help him ease his decision. He thought the separation would be temporary, that he could hunt with his dad and his brother during his breaks, and that with the new space between him and Dean, he would have an easier time to remember that this was his brother, therefore the wrong target for the desire that was eating him up from the inside.

But then everything went down different than he had planned it, with his father practically disowning him, destroying his hopes of having it all with one single sentence, _If you walk out_ that _door_ , _don't you ever come back_. Dean had just stood there, watching them with a broken look on his face, not saying a single word. And when it was over and all was said and done, Sam had grabbed his duffel bag and walked away, tears burning in his eyes he stubbornly refused to let fall. He only made it about a mile down the road when he heard the deep and familiar rumbling of an engine. Not even a minute later his brother pulled up next to him in the Impala and told him through the open window “Get in, I’ll drive you to the bus station.”

And so Dean did, the silence between them oppressive for the first time since Sam could remember. He had no idea what to say. _I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave you; I want to leave this life_. He only knew what he had stupidly hoped to hear from Dean. _Don’t go. I’m coming with you. I love you._ But that was the thing, wasn’t it? For all his silly hopes Sam was a realist, he knew that just because you wanted something didn’t mean you could ever have it. Especially not when you were a Winchester.

And now, with several months and too many miles between them and this night, he would give everything to have his brother back, to share another one of their moments, to hear his fond voice teasing him, calling him Sammy. _You don't know what you've got until it's gone._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After finishing his classes for that day Sam had refused the invitation of a cute red headed girl to have a beer at one of the local bars, instead opting to go home to get drunk alone and wallow some more in self-pity. At least no one was there to judge him for it.

Five beers later he decided to break in the whiskey his roommate had stored under his bed. Good thing Brady was at his girlfriend’s place for the rest of the week. He really didn’t need any witnesses for his pathetic behaviour right now. Even more so considering that the taste of whiskey just reminded him of Dean and the feeling of loneliness that weighed him down. He just couldn’t understand why it was so hard for him to make friends. When he was younger and still held hope that they could maybe stay in one place, he never had any problems making friends. He had just stopped trying when he had realized that losing them again and again, when the unavoidable move to another place came, hurt too much.

He had no recollection of reaching for his phone but there it was in his hand, his thumb hovering above “1”, where Dean’s number was on speed dial. He had left the lands of sober maybe an hour ago and even the borders of tipsy-land were slowly getting out of reach. Drunken him obviously knew what sober him denied vigorously. He needed his big brother. Maybe hearing his voice would be enough? He could just call and wait for Dean to pick up and say hello. Then he knew everything was alright, Dean was still alive and well enough to answer the phone. This knowledge could be enough for another few months.

“Hello? Sam? You there?”

Belatedly he realized that his body had made his decision without him, his finger had been pressing the button long enough to connect the call. His brother sounded worried that he wasn’t saying anything. Of course he was; that was Dean, whose self-proclaimed job it was to take care of him. And if he didn’t answer any minute now then he would probably have some pissed off big brother knocking on his door. _And oh god he was tempted to just let it happen_. But that wouldn’t be fair to either of them, so he bit the bullet and said “I’m here. Sorry, my butt must have called you.” Drunken him really did say stupid things.

“Your butt missed me or what? Oh Sammy, that’s priceless.” his brother’s laughter made him smile like a tool, and again he was glad no one was there to see. It was so good to hear Dean’s voice, even if it was making fun of him. He didn’t trust his own voice enough to answer anything at the jibe though; afraid he might spill all his embarrassing thoughts.

“Hey little brother, you hang up on me?” The worry was back, probably because usually Sam would take the bait, rebuking Dean for being so ridiculous. But he wasn’t feeling it right now.

“Yeah. I -, I just didn’t know what to say.” he admitted, too tired and worn to think of a convincing lie.

“You? Not knowing what to say? What’s wrong, did you use up all your brain already, college boy?” Sam was too drunk to read all the emotions behind those words, but he thought there was bitterness, but also concern. It was the concern that made him spill the ugly truth.

“I miss you. I’m alone, I’m lonely. Everyone is so loud when I just want to hear your voice and I never meant for things to get that bad. I didn’t want to leave you, I swear, I just -, I just really miss you Dean.”

And with that Sam ended the call, too afraid of what his brother might say in return.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When there was a loud knocking on his door not even two hours later, he had just managed to fall asleep, curled up under the blankets, hiding from the world and hoping sleep would take away the pain in his chest. The pounding on the door didn’t help with that, squashing all hopes of an easy escape. At first he had tried to ignore it, thinking it was probably his roommate who had forgotten his keys or one of Brady’s friends.

He must have been right, because after a minute or two the noise had stopped. Sam heaved a relieved sigh.

That was when he heard the light scratching at his door, and he wondered what kind of person would scratch on a door that wouldn’t open to them, before realization hit him. Someone was trying to pick his lock.

Grabbing the knife from under his pillow he tried to jump out of his bed, but was hampered by the alcohol still running through his system. So instead of sneaking quietly to the door he stumbled his way through the room, trying to not fall over and stab himself in the process. His ego couldn’t take the hit, literally.

The door opened slowly, revealing nothing more than a big shadow. Sam was holding the knife in front of him, ready to attack, when he heard a familiar chuckle.

“Easy tiger, we don’t want you to hurt yourself, now, don’t we?”

“Dean?”

“In the flesh. Heard a little girl was crying for her big brother, so I thought I’d stop by.”

Ignoring his brother’s cocky attitude, he put the knife aside, before doing what he had longed for so badly: hugging the most important person in his life.

Dean had been right, alcohol did make him sappy. But judging by the forceful tightening of his brother’s arms around him, Dean didn’t mind one bit right now, the hug lasting longer than what would count as strictly brotherly.

When they did manage to break apart, Dean cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, neither of them knowing what to say.

“What are you doing here?” was the first thing that came to Sam’s mind.

“I told you, I heard –“

“Yeah, I got that, Jerk. But how did you manage to get here so quickly? And why would you do that in the first place?” he couldn’t help the baffled sound of his voice; he had thought that Dean hated him for leaving, so him turning up on his doorstep just because Sam had missed him made zero sense.

Dean looked a bit uncomfortable now, like he would prefer to not answer these questions. He gave a little shrug, his hand moving to his neck, a sure tell that he was embarrassed. “I was around, figured I could say hello. I can go if it’s a bad time?”

“No!” A bit ashamed of how forceful and desperate he sounded he quickly added “I mean, you just got here and I have nothing else to do anyway. Except sleeping, but you know, four hours are usually enough anyway, right?” He forced himself to smile at Dean, trying to act as casual as possible. His still tipsy inner voice – which at least didn’t sound like Dean – told him to not fuck this up. “You want to get pizza, maybe watch a movie?”

Dean, who knew him like no one else probably ever would, looked right through his act, but thankfully decided to say nothing about the fact that it was the middle of the night. Instead he nodded. “Sure. Something good on?”

Sam had already grabbed his phone and scrolled down to the number of the nearest pizza service. “I think they have a Dracula night on somewhere. You want to see if you can find it while I order us some pizza?” He pointed to the small and used TV and the ratty sofa standing before it.

“I take the –“

“Meat lover’s pizza, I know.” They smiled at each other, suddenly back at the place where the other’s company was the most comforting thing they knew.

Half an hour later, they were both sprawled over the couch, pizza and beer at hand and a crappy old movie playing on TV. Dean was currently laughing his ass off because apparently you could see that Draculas teeth were prosthetics. Sam laughed along with him, more because his brother’s laugh was just contagious than because he found the false teeth amusing.

When they both had calmed down and continued to watch in silence, he was surprised to hear Dean’s voice saying “I was just a few cities over tonight, and I was never more than three hours away from Palo Alto for the last four months.”

Sam felt like someone had pulled the ground away underneath his feet. How was he supposed to react? Thankfully, Dean decided to continue.

“I wanted to be close, in case you needed me. I was more thinking of money issues or something supernatural, I’d never thought you’d miss – that you’d feel lonely here, but still, I’m glad I did.”

Dean’s eyes had never left the screen, but Sam could tell that his attention was still on his little brother, so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

“Me, too.” His voice was barely above a whisper, not willing to speak louder with the charged mood in the room.

Dean finally looked over at that, his eyes impossible wide and green in the spare light of the TV. Sam’s breath hitched in his throat and his hands began to tremble. “Dean –“

That was all he was able to get out before his brother was capturing his lips with his own.

“Tell me you want this, Sam. Tell me I’m not fucking this up.” Dean panted once they managed to break apart to take in some much needed air.

“I want this. I want you, Dean. I have for a long time.” With that Sam dove back in, his heart beating wildly in his chest, his body trembling in exhilaration.

He couldn’t tell how they ended up in only their underwear, making out like horny teenagers on his couch, when Dean cupped his cheek, and without breaking eye contact once, he said “I have wanted you for so long, I don’t even know how it feels to not want you. You’re the only person I feel save with, comfortable and happy by just being around you. I want you to never forget this, okay?”

Sam’s brain was in no shape to figure out what Dean was trying to tell him, the only thing really computing right now was that Dean felt the same as him, that his stupid hopes hadn’t been so stupid after all. So Sam did the only reasonable thing. He pulled off their boxers and spread his legs enough to make more room for Dean. All thoughts of talk were forgotten when their cocks came in contact, creating delicious friction between them.

They tried to take their time, rutting slowly together and enjoying every thrust, but soon enough their desire became too urgent, the tension that had built over the years finally at its breaking point. Sam wrapped his long legs around Dean’s hips, changing the angle and increasing the pressure between them. That was enough to have Dean thrusting erratically a few more times before he came with a breathless “Sammy”, spilling between their bodies and slicking the way even more. Sam felt his own orgasm approaching fast, but he wanted to come with Dean’s mouth on his, so he surged upwards and claimed his brother’s lips in a passionate kiss that lasted all through his own climax.

They barely managed to clean themselves up a bit before stumbling into bed together. And with his brother in his arms, comforted by his heavy breathing, he decided that really, being honest maybe wasn’t so bad after all. At least if it was with the one person you could share silence just as much as laughter. If it was your best friend.


End file.
